


Captivity

by Yennefer_Maleficent_Black



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And little comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Probably more angst, if you haven't read the books maybe not read this, major canon spoiler, plays after Sodden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yennefer_Maleficent_Black/pseuds/Yennefer_Maleficent_Black
Summary: Yennefer and Tissaia fell into Nilfgaard's hands after the battle. Both wake up in the dungeons of Emhyr's castle, Tissaia with severe dimeritium poisoning. Will Yennefer get a cure for her?
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	Captivity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinkbucket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkbucket/gifts).



> Let me preface this by saying sorry to thinkbucket for taking so long to get around to doing this: I am sorry. This was part of an ask game I reblogged months ago. In fact, the fluff piece from yesterday was from the same game.  
> I do hope you will enjoy this unedited little oneshot!
> 
> Disclaimer: Neither the world nor the characters of the Witcher belong to me. No money has been made from this and no copyright infringement was intended.

Stale, heavy air filled Yen’s lungs. The type that was usually found in dungeons. Wheezing sounded through the room, making Yennefer bolt upwards to look around the dimly lit room.

There, on a pile of dirty straw, lay Tissaia. Soot from the battlefield still covered her face despite the sweat running down her forehead. A weak cough tore from her throat, and the pained look on her face made it obvious that the woman was in downright agony. Stumbling to her feet, Yen crossed the small space between her and her old mentor. She had always been so much more than that, of course, no matter how much the sorceress had tried to push her feelings away. Falling to her knees next to Tissaia – oblivious to the fact that the dungeon’s door had been wrenched open – she gasped, “Tissaia, what happened to you?“

“She is dying of dimeritium poisoning, Yennefer,” sounded the cold, cruel voice of Fringilla. Head snapping up to face the dark sorceress, Yen mustered a weak snarl but stayed silent. There was a clear power divide and Yen was not about to worsen their situation. Instead, she strategically positioned herself between Tissaia and Fringilla in the most protective way she could at this moment. Although, reaching inside herself, she found little chaos in her reserves, so if Fringilla decided on hurting or eliminating either of them, Yennefer would be embarrassingly helpless.

“The emperor, in his undying mercy, has offered to remedy that. For a price, of course.” Yennefer didn’t believe her ears. How mad had Fringilla gotten to seriously follow the madman that ruled over Nilfgaard and attempted to win the continent? The same man who enslaved sorcerers and used them up like firewood just to support his conquest. Breathing deeply, Yennefer grounded herself so she would not be too rude to her former friend before she said, “look at her, how is she supposed to pay any price the emperor wants from her?”

A cruel smile crept onto the sorceress’s face, telling Yen that she had expected her to ask this question. Inspecting her nails as though she really didn’t care all that much about her decision – and she probably didn’t – Fringilla languidly responded, “It is not Tissaia the emperor wants something from, silly. You incinerated a good portion of his army, not her. You displayed more power than most of his following sorcerers could even dream of. So the real question here is whether Tissaia is important enough to you for you to do what is necessary to save her?”

Before Yennefer had a chance to answer, the two guards that had been standing behind Fringilla stepped forward and grabbed Tissaia by her arms, dragging her to her feet. A soft whimper escaped the brunette’s lips as they dragged her along the corridor, Yen following closely behind after Fringilla gave her the sign to follow along.

The five of them soon arrived in the imposing throne room, but they did not stop there. Yennefer suspected that, whatever Emhyr wanted from her, the meeting would be held in private and away from the prying ears of the courtiers that currently stared at them in blatant curiosity. Guards opened a door as they approached, revealing the expected royal office. What Yennefer had not expected, however, was a large portrait of a rather petulant looking child with silver hairs. She had been out of royal circles for a long time, but the girl looked a lot like the young Pavetta of Cintra. Calanthe’s daughter died at sea, however, so she the reason for the portrait – as well as the girl’s identity – remained a mystery for Yennefer.

The emperor, a tall man with a crooked nose and long, gelled back black hair, turned around and regarded the five of them with a contemplating gaze. Yennefer took advantage of the silence by looking over at Tissaia. Pearls of sweat rolled down her face as the rectoress struggled to keep any semblance of posture and dignity, and her eyes looked hazy and not as present as usual. Her gaze wandered from the portrait to the emperor. Seemingly noting the fact that Tissaia had come to a conclusion that Yennefer had no way of even remotely guessing, the emperor said with an icy voice, “Leave us. You too, Fringilla, your help is not needed any longer.”

An air of nervousness clung to the dark sorceress as she bowed and quickly shuffled out of the room, following behind the two guards. The guards had let go of Tissaia rather unceremoniously, and Yennefer dove towards her in an attempt to save her from falling to the floor. Tissaia, in turn, instinctively threw her arms around Yen’s neck, clutching the ropes of the dress the raven-haired woman still wore. While her grip held tight onto Yennefer’s dress, Tissaia’s gaze was firmly fixed on the man in front of them. Her posture radiated distrust, causing Yennefer to be on the lookout as well.

“I suspect you know who I am, rectoress de Vries?” the emperor asked in a calm, collected manner. Tissaia was a few centuries old, if she did know who he was, that wouldn’t be surprising. Yennefer found it troubling, however, that the man seemed to have a secret identity but showed no sign of being bothered about potential exposure. Nervously, she glanced back at Tissaia, only to see her lift her chin somewhat imperiously as she said, “I do know who you are, Duny, Prince of Cintra, who supposedly died at sea with his wife.”

Shock settled into Yennefer’s bones. She had heard of the unfortunate accident, of course, in which the crown princess and her husband had been lost at sea. Only that, now, said husband apparently stood in front of her, which made the child on the painting Cirilla, the emperor’s daughter. “Yes, indeed,” said the dark-haired man, interrupting her train of thought. “I have been fortunate enough to have been fished out of the sea by a Nilfgaardian ship. My wife was not as lucky as I, sadly. And without her, as you may have guessed, Calanthe would have never allowed me back into the castle.”

“So instead you made Nilfgaard your own and started a disastrous war, destroying millions of lives, for what?” Yennefer had but whispered her conclusions, the shock causing her tongue to come lose before she could catch herself. Flinching, she looked up, instinctively holding tighter onto Tissaia, expecting the man to fly into a fit of rage. To her further surprise, he stayed as calm as before, a cruel smile painting his lips as he uttered, “For my daughter, of course. I have missed her dearly. Are you telling me you would not miss Tissaia if I took her from you? You do love her, don’t you? Following her into battle, thinking you would die. Only love could make us risk our lives that way.”

Yennefer felt the colour drain from her face. How could he know? Nobody knew. Hell, she had pushed her feelings so far down that even she sometimes forgot about them. She gulped when Tissaia, obviously confused by the man’s words, whispered, “Yennefer?” Shaking her head ever so slightly, her left hand left the position between Tissaia’s shoulderblades and settled between the semi-lose strands of hair instead, stroking it gently.

It was proof enough for Emhyr, and he reached down onto his desk, picking up a piece of parchment. He stepped around his desk and dragged a chair behind him, placing it in front of them. The scraping of metal feet on the stone floor did nothing to calm Yennfer’s already aggravated nerves. He gestured to the chair, suggesting Tissaia take a seat. As much as Yennefer hated the idea of letting go of Tissaia, standing probably wouldn’t do her any good as long as the Dimeritium still coursed through her veins, poisoning her lungs.

The second Tissaia leaned back in the chair, Emhyr pressed the parchment into the raven-haired woman’s hand. She took one look at it and instantly knew it was a locator spell, but not an ordinary one. The changes made to it would increase its potency immensely, making it possible to track anyone who could potentially be on the other side of the continent. Warily, Yen looked at the man who seemed to have a permanent sneer etched onto his face, waiting for him to clarify what it was that he wanted from her.

“I’m sure Fringilla has informed you that, for me to have the famous rectoress of Aretuza cured, I expect the service of yourself, the only sorceress powerful enough to perform this spell,” he drawled. Yennefer’s gaze wandered from Emhyr to Tissaia, who watched the scene unfold in front of her, and back again. Gathering some courage, she replied in the most steadfast way possible, “Am I to assume that it is your daughter you want to be located, your Majesty?”

He gave her an approving nod and said, “Indeed. If you do this for me, I will grant rectoress de Vries the treatment she so desperately needs, and as an additional reward you will receive funds as well as a luxurious home in Toussaint. You can rejoin the war after recovering for all I care, just do this for me.” Pursing her lips, she went over the calculations. If they were correct, the amount of chaos she needed could potentially kill her.

Before she could stop her, Tissaia had taken the calculations from her and looked them over. The woman had been her mentor, Yennefer didn’t doubt that, even in her state, she would realise more than quickly what it would mean. The way her eyes widened, Yennefer guessed she had already connected the dots. Taking the parchment back from the brunette, she did her best not to look at her. “Yennefer, no…” rasped Tissaia pleadingly. Forcing herself not to listen to Tissaia, like she had done so many times in her life, she turned back to Emhyr and said, “Okay. I’ll do it, even if it kills me. As long as you vow to keep up your end of the deal.”

Satisfied, Emhyr rung a bell that had sat on his desk and the door sprang open, revealing the two guards from before. Fringilla was thankfully nowhere to be seen. In an almost bored manner, the emperor told the men to get Tissaia the help she needed, and to show Yennefer to the quarter she would be staying at as well as have the maids run her a bath and provide a new dress. Being separated from Tissaia didn’t sit quite right with her, but at least that way she couldn’t be talked out of it.

And yet, she couldn’t quite relax in the tub of hot water that had been provided for her. Sure, it was great to wash all the dirt off of her after goodness knows how long, but she did not know if Tissaia was alright. That bugged her. It bugged her to the point where she rushed to get dressed and had one of the maids escort her to the medical wing with her hair still wet.

As soon as she strode through the door, she saw Fringilla measuring some medication with a spoon while Tissaia made a bit of a fuss on her bed. Never one to be patient – at least not these days – Fringilla turned to her with a scathing look on her face and said, “By everything holy, will you quit whining already?”

Rage awakened within Yennefer, though she did her best to control it. In an icy manner that would probably make Tissaia proud on a normal day, she bit out, “Quit being an arse to the woman who you owe everything to, why don’t you.” Startled, Fringilla turned to her. Seeing Yennefer in her new dress – which looked much better than Fringilla’s – must have given her an idea about the change in power between them. Biting her tongue, the dark sorceress turned around again and gave Tissaia, who had stopped fussing as soon as Yennefer had spoken, the last of her medicine.

“Two days of strict bed rest for you, rectoress, and don’t stress yourself out too much.” With that, the two of them were left alone. For the first time since they had been fetched from the dungeons hours ago, Yennefer and Tissaia had absolute privacy. The look on Tissaia’s face, despite her obvious exhaustion, was one of anger.

Seething as much as she possibly could, Tissaia hissed, “So first I have to find out about your feelings for me from Duny the former hedgehog, and then you decide to go on a suicide mission to safe my life without consulting me about it?” Placatingly, Yennefer raised her hands in surrender and sat down on the bed. Maybe, if Tissaia felt like slapping her, it would prevent the woman from using up too much of her strength.

“Tissaia, can’t you see? I was ready to die for you at Sodden Hill, and I am ready to die for you now. In fact, I don’t think I will never not be ready to die for you ever again.” Yen looked at the brunette pleadingly, while accepting every possible outcome of the situation. Tissaia had never given her any sign that she might see her in even remotely the same way, so it may well be that Tissaia rejected her without her ever asking the rectoress for anything.

Instead, as though this day hadn’t been shocking enough for them, Tissaia surged forward, clutching the front of Yen’s dress, and planted a firm kiss on her lips. Even though Yen had by no means expected this, she automatically flowed into the embrace, reciprocating the kiss. Still clutching her dress, seemingly unwilling to let her go, Tissaia ended it and pressed her forehead to Yen’s, breathing harshly. She looked into violet eyes from under her eyelashes and said, “Why don’t you try living for me instead, silly woman?”

Letting out a mirthless chuckle, Yennefer reassured her, “Why, if it’s me that you chose, then how could I have the audacity of dying? I have made a lot of mistakes in my life, but dying when you don’t want me to will not be one of them. You will probably not stop worrying until I come back from the spell, but please rest assured I have no intention of leaving you anytime soon. Besides, I will soon come into possession of a very nice house in Toussaint, and we desperately need a break, wouldn’t you agree?”


End file.
